


Plan B

by Enjoloras



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Protest Gone Wrong, Trans Enjolras, it was a trope prompt so here you go, kissing to hide from bad people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 06:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjoloras/pseuds/Enjoloras
Summary: “Fine,” he said, “Kiss me.”“I---what?”“Kiss me,” Enjolras repeated urgently, “They'll run past us. No one ever wants to look at people making out.”Grantaire stared at him, wondering if perhaps he'd had his head caved in at the protest after all and this was some batshit dream brought on by the resulting coma. Even if it was, he didn't have time to argue - he could hear them getting closer.“Okay,” he said; Enjolras seized him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to him, kissing him full on the mouth as he stumbled back against the wall.-Whilst trying to outrun trouble at a protest gone awry, Enjolras and Grantaire find themselves improvising a very cliche distraction.





	Plan B

Grantaire had known the whole thing was going to go awry – that was the way more often than not. He'd have liked to boast he had a sixth sense for these sorts of things, but the truth was he was just a sceptic to his very core. Looking at life with a cynical attitude was the safest way to do it, he thought - when you were cynical everything was either as bad as you'd expected or a pleasant surprise.

So no, he hadn't been particularly optimistic about Les Amis taking to the streets to protest the extortionate cost of city living, but when he'd seen police officers in civilian clothes mingling among the crowd he'd been even more sure than usual that things were going to get hairy. And he'd been right, of course. 

He'd known, he'd guessed, but here he was biting his tongue to keep from saying 'I told you so'. Normally he'd have jumped at the chance to point this out, but even he had to admit that doing so right now wouldn't help their situation – that situation being that he and Enjolras were now fleeing down winding side streets as fast as their legs would carry them. 

It had all happened in a flash; a police instigator had thrown a brick (you could tell from the boots. You can _always_ tell from the boots...), someone in the crowd had shouted something unintelligible, and then all hell had broken loose.

Les Amis had been split up in the chaos, swept apart on a tide of angry people, and somehow Grantaire had found himself stuck with Enjolras. 

Of _course_ it was Enjolras that he ended up with. It couldn't have been anyone else - that would have been impossible. Grantaire was a compass and Enjolras was true North; no matter what happened Grantaire was drawn to him, even when he tried his very hardest not to be – even when it was absolutely _disastrous_ to be.

Like now.

Funnily enough it wasn't the police they were running from – no, that would be _far_ too predictable. They were running because when it came to social injustice Enjolras didn't know how (or when) to pick his fights. A group of people who had clearly shown up just to start trouble had gotten his hackles up, and a brief but intense confrontation and one (surprisingly good) punch from Enjolras later and they were running for their lives, dodging down the sides of buildings and between parked cars to avoid getting a beating. If it hadn't resulted in a mad dash for safety, Grantaire would have been impressed; Enjolras didn't often stoop to violence, but apparently when he did, he did it well.

But still, this wasn't how Grantaire had wanted his day to pan out when he'd woken up that morning. Frankly things _never_ seemed to go the way Grantaire wanted them to. Why break the habit of a lifetime?

After running what felt like a small marathon through Paris he finally saw Enjolras – a few steps ahead of him – slow to a stop, propping himself up against the nearest wall and panting furiously.

“Did we lose them?” he asked.

“I think so,” Grantaire said, hunching over to catch his breath, “Fucking hell, I think that shaved five years off my life...”

“Well you're always making fatalistic jokes,” Enjolras remarked, “That should be a good thing.”

Grantaire blinked, stunned.

“Did you seriously just try to lighten the mood with a joke? You?”

Enjolras shrugged, still panting, “Courfeyrac isn't here,” he pointed out, “I guess someone has to do it.”

Grantaire laughed, “Good effort!"

“Thanks,” Enjolras murmured, suddenly bending over to cough loudly. It was a horrible, forceful sort of cough, like someone who was about to hack up a whole lung.

“Uh...are you okay?” Grantaire asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I'm fine,” Enjolras said, pounding one fist against his chest, “It's my binder. It's not really designed for running from angry mobs. My chest is killing me...”

“Shit,” Grantaire said, immediately panicking, “Do you need to sit down?”

“That'd be good,” Enjolras nodded; no sooner had he spoke there came a distant shout from around the corner. It sounded like they hadn't outrun their assailants after all.

“But it doesn't look like I'm going to get to chance to,” he said, deadpan, “Come on---”

“Woah – no – hold up,” Grantaire said, grabbing his arm to stop him from taking off, “You can't keep running! You can hardly breathe! Combeferre would wipe the floor with me if you broke a rib or something.”

“I think he'd rather I broke a rib binding than broke a rib getting the shit kicked out of me,” Enjolras pointed out, “We have to go. _Now._ ”

“But you look _really_ hurt,” Grantaire protested. About a dozen different expressions crossed Enjolras' face in a split second, and then he nodded.

“Fine,” he said, “Kiss me.”

“I---what?”

“Kiss me,” Enjolras repeated urgently, “They'll run past us. No one ever wants to look at people making out.”

Grantaire stared at him, wondering if perhaps he'd had his head caved in at the protest after all and this was some batshit dream brought on by the resulting coma. Even if it was, he didn't have time to argue - he could hear them getting closer.

“Okay,” he said; Enjolras seized him by the collar of his shirt and dragged Grantaire to him, stumbling back against the wall as he kissed him full on the mouth.

His lips were chapped but he kissed like he meant to start wars and topple empires, and Grantaire was pretty sure his heart was about to explode, but that could have been from running what felt like ten miles. He responded in kind, bringing one hand up to seize a fistful of Enjolras' hair and letting the other settle cautiously at his waist. It was a passionate kiss – much more passionate than the situation demanded. Tongue really wasn't necessary, Grantaire thought, but then when was he going to get the chance again? Enjolras really didn't seem to mind - quite the contrary, in fact. He let out a little moan into Grantaire's mouth, so low and indecent that Grantaire was suddenly very worried his body was about to do something ridiculously inappropriate.

He had no idea if the kiss was working – well, okay, it was definitely _working_ as far as some things went, but if their attackers were thundering past them or not Grantaire hadn't the faintest clue. All his senses were filled with Enjolras, so entirely occupied by him that the sky could have probably fallen and he wouldn't have noticed.

“Woah – what the hell?”

It was Bahorel's voice that made Grantaire spring back, heart leaping up into his throat. He whirled around to see Bahorel, Jehan and Courfeyrac, the three of them flush-faced and wide-eyed. It was obvious that they'd been running too.

“It's not what it looks like,” Grantaire said instantly, turning desperately to Enjolras, “Right?”

Enjolras looked completely dazed, his hair sticking up at a funny angle where Grantaire had run his hand through it.

“Right,” he said, “It was a distraction.”

“It sure looks like it was very distracting,” Courfeyrac commented, a Cheshire Cat grin on his face, “You okay, Enj...?”

“I'm _fine_ ,” Enjolras said, composing himself, “We thought you were---”

“I know. We thought _you_ were,” Jehan said, “We were worried they'd got you.”

“Yeah, we were coming here to kick some asses.” Bahorel told him, “But, uh, looks like you were doing okay for yourselves...” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shut up,” Grantaire mumbled, sure that he was still bright red all over, “Is everyone else okay?”

“Oh yeah. Combeferre wrangled everyone up and got them back to the apartment,” Courfeyrac said, flashing them his phone, “You'd have known that if you'd checked the group chat.”

“We were a little busy running for our lives,” Enjolras said scathingly.

“And other things...” Jehan snickered.

“We were creating a diversion,” Enjolras insisted again, his words apparently doing nothing to excuse the situation whatsoever.

Courfeyrac smiled, “If you say so,” he said, “Come on – let's go.”

 

-

 

As they headed in the direction of the nearest taxi bay, Grantaire slowed his steps to fall in line next to Enjolras. His head was still reeling from the kiss. A wiser man would have probably tried to avoid Enjolras entirely, but, well, Grantaire had never claimed to be wise. 

“Hey," he said, shooting for casual despite his racing pulse, "Are you feeling okay?”

“I'm fine,” Enjolras said, casting him a grateful look, “I'm breathing a bit easier now I'm not running as fast as I can across the city.”

“That's good,” Grantaire nodded, “And the kiss thing was a good idea – even if it was our friends chasing us.”

“It was,” Enjolras nodded.

“We should've done it sooner,” Grantaire commented. 

Enjolras glanced at him, something curious dancing behind his eyes, “We should have?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, “Then we wouldn't have ran so far.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, something flashing across his face, “I...of course. You're right. For once.” he pursed his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before adding, “You're a good kisser."

Grantaire laughed awkwardly, feeling heat rush up the back of his neck and into his cheeks, “Uh, thanks. You too.”

“Really?” Enjolras said, apparently surprised, “Huh. Beginners luck, I guess...”

“Beginners---wait, what?” Grantaire stopped in his tracks, “You mean you---?”

“Let's just catch up to the others,” Enjolras decided, cheeks scarlet, “We don't want to lose them again, do we?”

Grantaire was inclined to disagree.

 


End file.
